To be updated as new stories are added.
Last updated on: 2/1/2020
Prince Aladdin
A retelling of Aladdin. Jasmine becomes a powerful sorceress, and Aladdin becomes a true prince in a land far from Agrabah.
Cinderella: Redo
A retelling of Cinderella. The stepsisters and Cinderella band together to survive their motherâs abusive treatment.
General Li Mulan
A retelling of Mulan. Instead of going to war to save her father, Mulan is raised by her mother and grandmother and goes to war to secure a marriage with her wealthy classmate, Ping. Then she meets Shang.
heâs the beauty; sheâs the beast
A retelling of The Beauty and the Beast. The witch wants to take control of the kingdom, but young Prince Adam wonât let her. So she curses him to be a beast on the inside, and with the ability to see people as they truly are. When arrogant, selfish Belle shows up at his door, he finds her hideous.
whatâs a fire and how does it - whatâs the word? - burn
A retelling of The Little Mermaid. Ariel discovers she has her own magical powers, and seeks out her grandmother Amphitrite to learn how to control them.
look at me - i will never pass for a perfect brideÂ
A retelling of Mulan. Shang meets Mulan before the draft, and sheâs already a great warrior trained by her father. When she shows up in his camp pretending to be a man, he keeps her secret.
my what a guy, gaston!Â
A retelling of The Beauty and the Beast. Gaston is nobleâs son who befriends the young Prince Adam, and falls in love with him. When he find out that a beast has killed the royal family and taken over the castle, he abandons his noble upbringing and becomes a hunter so that he can one day avenge the princeâs death.
the gifts of beauty and song
A retelling of Sleeping Beauty. Maleficent is the good fairy, and the three faeries that raise Aurora are the bad ones. They raise Aurora to be a dark, heartless fae. To save Aurora and the human realm, Maleficent steals Prince Philip and trades him to the Elf King for a young elf servant.
I wonder why each little bird has a someone to sing to
A retelling of Sleeping Beauty, and a companion piece to the gifts of beauty and song. Human Prince Philip finds his place in the Elf Realm, and also falls in love with its prince, Eli.
they call her maid maleen
A retelling of Maid Maleen. Once the queen dies, the king can no longer stand to look at his daughter, the Princess Maleen. She becomes a servant in the palace, and her father remarries and has new children to take the throne. Then Prince Wolfgang visits the palace and falls for the opinionated servant who brings him his meals.
Princess Kaguya of the Moon
A retelling of The Tale of The Bamboo Cutter. Kaguya runs from her home of the moon to earth, where she becomes the beloved daughter of a bamboo cutter. She grows up beautiful, and princes from all across the land seek her hand. None of them make an impression, until the Emperor visits.
looking around here you think - sure, sheâs got everything
A retelling of The Little Mermaid. Ariel is the prince of the Atlantica, and heir to the seven seas because the trident chose him when he was just a toddler. Except Ariel is actually a trans girl whoâs worried the trident will reject her if it knows sheâs a girl, since it rejected all of her sisters. first version here.
paint heaven and anger the gods
A retelling inspired by the Miss Hokusai trailer. Kana is the daughter of Juro, a famous painter who paints beautiful things. She tries to paint like her father, but instead discovers how to do something else: how to paint things with power.
sound the drums of war
A retelling of Pocahontas. Instead of fighting to preserve an uneven peace between her tribe and the pale people, she instead leads them into war. Supporting her are her dear friends Kokoum and Nakoma.
where will they live?
A retelling of the stories of selkies and swan maidens. A swan maiden throws off her cloak of feathers, runs a pub in Dublin, and falls in love with a mysterious woman in a grey silk dress.
she is the snow queen
A retelling of The Snow Queen. Gerda is on a quest to find her best friend Kai, and Madhubala is on a quest to find her lost Summer Queen. Along the way, they find each other.
Let Down Your Hair
A retelling of Rapunzel. Gothel intends to give Rapunzel to her sister, known as the Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe. But thanks to Rapunzelâs mother consuming Gothelâs magic lettuce, Rapunzel has magical powers of her own, which means Gothel must raise her as her own daughter.
Red Robin Hood
A retelling of Little Red Riding Hood and Robin Hood. Thereâs a sickness sweeping through the village, but their king wonât give them medicine. So Robin dons her red cloak and goes to find some.Â
Fox Sister
A retelling of The Fox Sister. Yeon-saeng is born a kumiho, a fox demon, and struggles to control her painful, gnawing hunger for human hearts.Â
The Frog Prince
A retelling of The Frog Prince. Halim has been in love with Prince Darius since he was a little boy, and he doesnât think thatâs ever going to change. Aneksi is the daughter of the pharaoh, and thinks being a foreign bride sounds like an adventure.Â
Baroness Marian
A retelling of Little Red Riding Hood and Robin Hood. Sequel to Red Robin Hood. Robin goes to a fancy party to steal things, and comes across the captivating Baroness Marian - or Maid Marian, as her friends call her. [n/s/f/w]
A Garden of Secrets
A retelling of The Secret Garden. The garden is older than it appears, and has a conscious of itâs own.Â
A City Girl
A retelling of Mulan. After her father moves their family to the capital to serve as an adviser to the emperor, Mulan learns everything she can about fighting and strategy, and ends up teaching it to a boy who gets up before dawn to practice.
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Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo weâve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and itâs revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
What about the one with the princess locked in a tower learning to become a wizard? Thatâs lived in my mind for years and I havenât seen it in a long time
Oh, love that story, adding it to the list:
20. Princess Talia
and adding a few more contenders
21. Thyme
22. The Monster under the Bed
23. A Meaningful Death
24. Humans are unstoppableâŚuntil they arenât
25. The Monster under the Fridge
26. Antler Guy
27. Cleric slamming healing spells
Adding a few more I remembered:Â
28. The Frog and the Scorpion
29. HSTHETE
30. The First Witch in the World
31. Imagine that Oceans were replaced by ForestsÂ
32. A Faerie taking a NameÂ
33. The Dragon on the FarmÂ
34. Synovus & MenaceÂ
35. Raising the Anti-ChristÂ
36. Aliens vs. Flora & Fauna of Earth (pretty sure there are even more additions to the original post but I had this one saved)Â
37. Doctors without BordersâŚin Space!Â
38. The Villain-WranglerÂ
39. The Last ContactÂ
40. The 100 Parent-Point ChildrenÂ
41. And the Heavens WeptÂ
42. The Night GentlemanÂ
43. The Serpent God and their PriestessÂ
I can hardly take any credit for these stories! But I love sharing them. Unfortunately I cannot read all the prompt responses so please tag me if you want me to reblog a story that resonated with you so I can give it a little boost :)
Set in the universe where your destiny is written on your arm
(The Hero and Hope) (Being Villagers) (You are the Demon King)
You are a Blacksmith.
Thatâs why the dragonâs fire doesnât burn you.
âPretty sure dragon fire is hotter than a forge,â your partyâs leader pants. Kent is a veteran adventurer of twenty years to your two years and heâs seen his fair share of dragon fire before today. There are curling scars dragging the corner of his mouth down into a permanent scowl that pairs oddly with how high he has his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. He exhales noisily. âI think youâre just a freak, actually.â
âNot nice,â Sella says. The archer is your age with twice your experience. Her leather armor is well-beaten by four years running around with Kent and getting far closer to battle than an archer should. Her red hair is tied with golden thread that matches the golden charms dangling from her necklace. She adds a new one with every successful monster kill. Itâs lucky sheâs so stealthy or else sheâd be jingling with every step. âMande is an exception, not a freak.â
Youâre a party of exceptions. Most adventurers are Villagers or Guards, common destinies that donât always find a place within a town or village that have so many of each already. There are days you report for a mission, and youâre offered a blacksmithâs job on the spot just because of the mark on your arm.
Kent is a landless Lord. Thereâs a story there, you know, but itâs not one heâs ever volunteered. You can see his destiny pull at him in the remote reaches of the Kingdom, where no Lord has laid roots and the monsters run roughshod across the barren soil. Nights where youâre too far from civilization find him gazing up into the stars, his fingers curled like claws into the earth. The look on his face then is so hungry that the first time you saw it, you offered him provisions from your own pack. Heâd shaken his head wryly, his scarred frown twisting, and walked off into the night by himself, only returning in the morning light.
Sella is a Guardian without anyone to look after. You knew her story before she told it to you, whispering it like a bedtime story before the end of the world. She was part of a traveling theater group. She looked after them, feeding them and retrieving those with wanderlust from their journeys before curtain call. When a monster siege led by a Demon King fell upon the city they were performing in, the Lord called his people into his castle and locked the doors.
The troupe were not his people. But they were Sellaâs.
Until they werenât.
You drag your battle hammer up and over your shoulder. Conveniently, the dragon fire has burned away the wet viscera that had been clinging to it. The metal is dark with soot, but undamaged.
The things you smith canât be melted by any fire except your own.
The skeletal trees make the scene of this final battle oddly silent. Ash drifts from the sky, carried by a wind too high to feel. You can hear your party sniping at each other behind you and the gentle gurgle of the beastâs body settling comfortably into death.
The red dragon is beautiful. Its scales gleam and sparkle like rubies in the late afternoon sun and its talons shine like obsidian. Each part of the creature could make an average family rich for a month. You consider it from an armâs reach away. You chew your bottom lip as you think. Your adventures have taken you across the continent from the southern coast you call your home, to the western land of rivers, to the northern desert and then here, to the eastern dry lands. After all your travels, you find yourself still thinking of home often. Crab is a delicacy where youâre from despite being so close to the water. The preparation can be tedious which makes it a dish reserved from significant occasions. Cracking the shell was always your jobâŚ
âOh,â Sella says faintly. She makes an attempt to rise and nearly tips over in the process. If it werenât for her bow, sheâd be on the ground. Her knees shake as she uses a combination of a tree and her bow to pull herself up. âMande, rest first! In an hour I can help youââ
You bring your hammer down on the jaw of the dragon. The bone shatters after just two blows. Itâs best not to think about how beautiful it looked flying overhead or the intelligence in its eyes. Youâve always had a single-minded focus and you rely on that now.
âLeave her to her dismantling,â Kent grumbles. Heâs now curled up on the ground is if in his sleeping roll, hands tucked neatly under his chin. It canât be a comfortable position given his full suit of armor no matter how peaceful his expression. âIf sheâs got the energy for it, who are we to argue? Just keep the ribs intact. Thatâs what the client wants.â
Smash!
âItâs our turn to do the dismantling,â Sella says. She glares down at Kent. âMande already did last weekâs gryphon and the hydra. Get up!â
Smash!
âIâm an old man who needs his nap time.â
âYouâre an irresponsible leader who needs to do his part.â
Smash!
âOnce Mande stops swinging that thing around, I will.â
âShe wonât hit youââ
âShe hit me last week!â
âAnd I apologized for that,â you say through gritted teeth. You let your hammer fall by your feet. Your last blow sent tremors through your arms. The dragonâs jaw is like glass compared to its skull. âSincerely.â
Sella makes a gagging sound when you fall to your knees next to the cracked skull. âMande, donât put your hand in there, thatâs â oh, thatâs so gross.â
âThe book I read said itâd beâŚaha!â Your fingers graze something cool and metallic. You abruptly feel like crying. Itâs been seven months. Seven long months of endless missions and danger and being away from home. This entire dragon is priceless, but youâve forfeited your share for this. You blink rapidly to keep your tears at bay. You arenât going to cry. Not until youâre sure that youâve really found it. âQuick, hand me my waterskin.â
Your urgency gets even Kent up and bustling towards the dragonâs corpse. With trembling fingers you accept the water from Stella, pulling out your prize. Itâs smaller than you thought, only about the length of your arm or a third the length of the dragonâs skull.
With bated breath, you gently trickle water over the length of it. Your party kneels beside you, watching just as raptly.
âWhat is it?â Sella breathes.
Kent is wide-eyed as, inch by inch, your treasure reveals itself.
âA dragonâs silver wit,â you say. The silver is mottled by the dragonâs black blood and grey brain matter. âThe last ingredient I need for a Heroâs Sword.â
-----.
âYou canât just make a Heroâs Sword,â Kent is still saying a week later. He throws his hands up to the sky. âHeroes make them from air and magic and righteousness. Blacksmiths just repair them!â
You didnât ask for Sella or Kent to follow you home. In fact, you assumed they wouldnât. The slaying of the red dragon marked the end of your time in the Adventurerâs Guild. Now youâre ready to return to your position as the southern portâs best blacksmith and you thought theyâd be ready to return to the best two adventurers the Capital Guild had.
âIâve heard legends about it,â Sella says. Sheâs walking backward. Youâve already warned her that the roads this far away from Capital arenât as smooth, but sheâd scoffed at your concern. Now itâs pure stubbornness to prove you wrong that has her continuing to walk backwards despite nearly tripping twice already. âExcalibur was manmade.â
âThe legend of Hero Arthur is manmade,â Kent retorts.
âIf you believe that,â you say, âyou really donât need to come home with me.â
Kent blinks. âWell,â he says slowly, âon the off chance itâs not a fairytale, I desperately want to see it.â
âThen shut up and follow Mande,â Sella says. She elbows him and mutters under her breath. âOr else she might not let us stay at her house.â
You roll your eyes. âIâm sure the dragon fetched enough coin for the both of you to get your own rooms at the inn.â
âSure,â Kent agrees. He grins wickedly and the expression makes him look ten years younger. âBut weâre not going to do that, are we Sella?â
âNope,â Sella chirps. She loops an arm through yours before you can protest and squints at the horizon. âIs that your hometown over there?â
A hazy line of blue and white roofs is barely distinguishable in the fading light of day. Sella has better vision than you. Youâre sure she can see the masts of ships in port, the green and yellow flag waving over the chiefâs house, maybe even the orchard that creeps right up to the edge of the bluffs.
You canât wait to see it yourself.
You arenât sure how long youâve been smiling, but your face hurts by the time you find your voice. âYes. Yes, it is.â
----------.
Mom hurls a loaf of bread at your head when you walk through the front door, Kent and Sella in tow.
Kent catches it an inch from your face. âWhoa, whoa!â He waves the bread as if unsure whether he should drop it or throw it back. âItâs your daughter! Mande! Put down the bread basket!â
âMande and friends,â Sella says cheerfully. She waves at your Mom, Dad, and little brother. âHello! Iâm Sella.â
âI threw it because I know who it is,â your mom says. The grey streaks on either side of her temple are wider. Her round, kind face is pale with anger. âWe thought you were dead.â
âWe got your letters,â your dad says before you can ask. His hair hasnât changed; heâs bald. Heâs wearing his leather apron from the forge at the table. He takes a bite of soup. âAll three of them.â
âNot nearly enough,â Mom snaps. Then, âAnd they could have been forgeries.â
âWho would forge a blacksmithâs letters home?â you ask in exasperation. Is that why she never replied? âMom, please.â
âDonât giveme that when youâve been dead for seven months,â she says. She stands abruptly. âThree of you? Sit down. I donât have enough soup, but bread will fill anyoneâs stomach.â
âIâm Kent,â Kent blurts out before Sella can push him into a chair. He sits with a thud. âSella, itâs rude to sit before introducing yourself!â
âRuder than not knocking or coming for dinner without an invitation?â Sella hisses at him. She turns a charming smile on your little brother. âSorry to intrude. You must be Axton. A pleasure to meet you.â
Axton doesnât return her greetings. His eyes are fixed to the package strapped to your back. âIs thatâŚ?â
You swallow hard as your familyâs eyes turn to you. You carefully pull the cloth-wrapped rod from your back. Your little brother isnât so little anymore. You can see heâs taller than you as he stands in unison with Dad to clear a spot on the table. His long, thin hands make quick work of the ties.
Thereâs complete silence as the burlap falls away to reveal gleaming silver.
Axtonâs throat bobs. Heâs barely eighteen with the soft look of a fawn hovering around the edges of his jaw and cheekbones. Mom and Dad have done a good job feeding him while youâve been gone. Seven months ago your brother looked like a wraith, all the light taken from him as if it all came from his heroâs sword.
âYouâre going to make me a sword,â Axton says at last.
Youâve thought about this moment for seven months. You imagined you would say something like itâs okay now or maybe big sister fixed it. When his heroâs sword was taken from him, you thought about all sorts of things. It took a month for you to set out on this quest rather than one of revenge. It wouldnât have helped Axton if youâd forged a hundred weapons of war to punish those whoâd hurt him. It wouldnât help Axton to pretend you fixed anything.
So instead you tell the truth.
âIt wonât be the same,â you say. âIt wonât work the way you want it to. Not right away. Youâll need to train with it and learn it as you would any other weapon. Your instincts wonât help you. ButâŚit wonât break when Iâm done. It wonât bend or chip. It wonât melt. It will serve you, Axton, until the exact moment you donât need it anymore.â
Axton flies around the table to throw his arms around you. Itâs amazing you came from the same parents. Where you are short and stocky, heâs really like a deer. His long arms could encircle you twice as he lifts you with a heroâs strength. âThank you, thank you, thank youââ
And then youâre being hugged all around. Your dadâs strong, Blacksmith arms are crushing you to your brother, your motherâs soft cheek is against your shoulder, and thereâs plate mail digging into your spleen while a sharp elbow digs into your spine.
You manage to turn your head just enough to see Kent hugging your from behind and Sella hugging him from behind. Itâs her elbow thatâs jabbing you.
âThis is sweet,â she says. Her voice is a little muffled from how her face is pressed against Kentâs back. âWe should hug more.â
âDoes this make your brother a Hero?â Kent asks.
âThis is a family hug,â you say.
âDuh,â Sella says. âThatâs why we joined.â
You really canât argue with that.
-
(Patreon)
Next week's story: Everyone in LA has two job. You've got a big smile and a talent for seeing ghosts. It's no surprise what your jobs are.
Will humanity ever be free of the influence of Edna Mode? Can any of us so much as consider the character design for a hero or villain without her manifesting in the room, fully aware of our sins?
You know what, another layer of difficulty is when youâre thinking about villains, and the wise words of Megamind come into your head. You donât just want your child to be just a regular villain. But how do you make your villain a Supervillain with no cape? Where is the drama? But Edna says no capes, you must deny them the flair. It is impossible to please them both, and itâs tearing this family apart.
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Huddled in a corner of the broken shuttle with a crewmate, Yet'zaks was confused.
"What are the humans doing?" Xe asked quietly.
"They are seeking supplies." D'A!!k responded, their whistles muted as they struggled to vocalise in the frigid air.
"Why? There is no way to repair the shuttle and no recovery planned."
The honourable and dignified way to die in these situations was quiet and still. It was to sleep.
The humans did not understand that. They were searching for ways to generate warmth, for water and food.
"There are no rescue ships coming. They know we will be dead before they can arrive." D'A!!k tried to explain to the humans.
"Bollocks to that."
"That- apologies, I believe I have had a malfunction in my translator."
"I doubt it. I said bollocks and I meant it." The human snapped back. "The atmosphere is breathable, the temperature's low but there's fuel for a fire, there's snow so there's water, and there's vegetation so there'll be something to eat."
"It is futile if we are never rescued."
"Twenty percent of our colony worlds started with a crash." The human laughed. "You spineless bastards can lay down and die-"
"We have spines." D'A!!k corrected, confused as to why his anatomy was being referenced.
"We do not go gentle into that goodnight, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage, against the dying of the light." The human picked up, to D'A!!k's rapidly growing horror, an actual stone tipped spear. "You can curl up and die while we build ourselves a new home." The human turned away. "Hey guys, I've got a name for the planet! Thomas! We can be the Dylan colony on planet Thomas!"
Humans having the incredible ability to fall asleep pretty much anywhere. So long as isnât actively on fire or made of broken glass and wasp stingers, itâs good enough for a human to conk out on. It not exactly good sleep, but itâs sleep either way.
Which is very odd to the galactic community.
Rest comes in all sorts of forms across the galaxy, some having sleep similar to ours, some having hibernation/brumation cycles, some going into meditative states, some retreating to cocoons, some photosynthesising, some even being technologically advanced enough to simply just plug themselves in and literally recharge. But the seeming inescapability of human sleep isâŚa little concerning.
If a human is tired enough, they will be able to sleep just about anywhere. Bed, sofa, armchair, the floor, a table, three chairs lined up, propped up like a doll against the wall, on top of another person, on a rock thatâs even vaguely flat, on a gnarled tree branch, sometimes even floating in water or suspended by a harness. Wherever. So long as we can breathe, we can and will fall asleep.
The same canât be said of aliens, theyâre a bit more picky by comparison, or they can stave off their exhaustion through emergency chemical reactions long enough to find somewhere appropriate to rest. Some are so specialised that they require their environments to be utterly perfect before their body allows them to rest. Those aliens are deeply jealous while waiting around at the Spaceport for their shuttle to start boarding and seeing humans clumped together on a bench in a very uncomfortable looking pile, snoring away.
And then, an alien species named the KhakâCthrax, a species known for their aggressive behaviour and bodies covered in rocky scales and dangerous barbs, discovering this aspect of humans.
One KhakâCThrax soldier being deployed to assist in saving some human civilians from a war zone and ending up having to carry a teenager for a while due to there not being enough gurneys. The juvenile human ends up nodding off in the soldierâs hands and at first he thinks the teenager has perished because the KhakâCThrax are not the type of person you would consider comfortable to rest on much less feel âsafeâ around inherently, but after the field medic explains that the child is only asleep, unsurprisingly from the day they had had, the soldier practically becomes a broody mother hen for the human. This little one trusted him??? Enough to rest while held in his arms??? They are his baby now???
Made worse by the fact that humans are half the size of the average KhakâCThrax when fully grown, so a scrawny juvenile was practically the size of a newly hatched whelp to the soldier. All tiny and soft and squishy. The soldier nearly took another KhakâCThraxâs arm off for trying to poke his new human baby.
I died but I came back exactly the same. You though, I came back and you were wrong. Did the fact of my dying really damage you that much? Was bringing me back worth what it cost you? Would it have been better to just leave me?
the horror of being "god's favourite princess". literally one of my favourite horror themes. the god loves you and it's so scary.
it will always choose you. you cannot die. you'll always come back because it loves you so much. you are its right and left hand, its eternal weapon. it will drown you in its light. light as horror. darkness as horror. what if it thinks you are its best friend.
you are god's favourite princess and it's terrifying.
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Frankly, youâd known those idiots had had a kid for years now. Youâd pretended not to, because while youâd committed a lot of atrocities in your life, you werenât willing to face the moral quandary of whether you would knowingly kill a child just to spite its parents.
They probably thought they were being clever though, what with the blaming you for an injury you knew damn well youâd never given keeping one of them out of commission for a few months, then references to what they would âleave behindâ or âcould not followâ when in the latest death trap. One of them had accidentally pulled a pacifier out of their utility belt once, and tried to pass it off as being prepared for any young children they came across while rescuing.
Idiots.
Still, you had standards. Standards that fell somewhere past war crimes and before common decency, but they were standards.
What Iâd give for one of the Cinderella remakes to go into how when youâre in an isolated and abusive situation, sometimes you need to be saved and youâre not weak if you canât escape by yourself
Iâve never been a fan of bad faith reinterpretations of fairy tales, especially ones which flatten the originals into âprincesses is saved by a prince and nothing elseâ, to then go #girlboss. The princess can save herself because sheâs a strong female character! (Implying if youâre in a bad situation, itâs because youâre not strong enough to get out)
Also the concept of the Prince over the course of like⌠a couple hours hanging out with Cinderella going from âHaha nice I really like youâ to âoh fuck i can tell from context clues alone that your home situation is FUCKED UPâ  itâs good shit  âI have just met you but ON GOD Iâm gonna get you out of there beautiful mystery womanâ  cinderella makes desperately yelling into the night âhow can I find you again!??!â when sheâs taking off that much more poignant really
#okay this is genius#I love this#love at first sight is a tough sell#but âI just met you but you are so clearly in desperate need of help that I am already planning where to hide the bodiesâ#is a trope I absolutely love#going from hello to ride or die in a matter of hours#isnât a âyouâre hotâ thing#itâs a âmy fellow human is trapped and suffering and every instinct I have is screaming its need to helpâ thing
just had an amazing sleep paralysis experience wherein i looked above my bed and there was a green prompt box thing that said âreveal ghostâ and of course my dumbass clicked on it and scary eyes slowly faded in as i tried to squirm around in fear and couldnt move like. man thats stupid you deserve whatever happens to you at that point
Donât mind me, itâs just that there is something so dangerous about the way you look when you're just existing in a room. You could be doing the most mundane thingâreading a text, adjusting your collar, looking out the windowâand my heart just does this terrifying, desperate plunge because I realize there isn't a single version of my future that makes sense if you aren't standing in the middle of it, letting me love you.
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The first rule of fandom is have fun. The second rule of fandom is find an enabler and become an enabler. Yes you should write that fic. What if it was even hornier? What if it was angstier? What if you wrote it just for me?
The first time, she says "To me," and the mirror dutifully shows her her reflection. And she is pleased.
The second time, she says "To the King," and she is pleased to see herself once more.
The third time, she says "To the Royal Advisor," and is once more satisfied to see herself.
The fourth time, she says "To the scribe who takes the King's letters." She is shown the man's wife. And she seethes, but quiets herself, for it is only right that a man loves his wife.
The fifth time, she says "To the Court Wizard," and is shown the man's departed mother as he remembers her from his youth, radiant and smiling and warm and larger than life.
The tenth time, she says "To the Stable Master," and is shown the fastest horse in the stable, majestic and free as the wind even in captivity
"To the baker," she is shown the man's daughter, young and adorable and full of joy and laughter.
"To the artist who did my portrait," she is shown a painting of a woman done by the man's teacher, who he still looks up to now that he is well established himself.
"To the Royal Knight," she is surprised but not displeased to see the castle's entire guard force in the middle of doing drills.
The one hundredth time she asks the mirror, and it asks her "to whom?" she once again says, "To me." And she does the same the one hundred and second, and again and again and again.
It is a different person each time, and they are all beautiful.